Article of the newspaper "The pen", 1891

Emilio Zola, the head of the naturalist school, has said (if wrong I forget) that the newspaper has killed literature.

And not lacks reason to the great master. The public is a great reader of journals. So includes it the author, and spends the lifeblood of his talent, offering either stabbing Epigram, already the ingenious article in mockery to flout castigates the vices of society. Instead of using his intellectual faculties on a serious work, it consumes them writing daily for the public. But however, there is no denying that journalism is an ajente of culture, although it is almost always fruitful in bitterness to who exercises.

The journalist has the privilejio of making enemies. If it affiliates in some political circle, opponents will bring you to the retortero with their hatreds; and if they do not play in any party, will then be the target of attacks by Tyrians and Trojans.

Not worth that presumed of skilled, and walk by the branches to say u000athings. In any case will find abundant career harvest penalty.

Apostle, their mission is to fight. When all hesitate when you lose faith in the triumph of Justice, should encourage its word to the crowd and be the first in combat

Although poisoned bolts of envy hurt you the soul, but fall into the sand fall blessed! If for good teaching and practicing virtue.

Great ideas do not succeed, but with great sacrifices, and in the press is where wields "the pen which strikes as it catapults the walls of the Bastille and her take on the ground;" "the pen that gets between the meat of the wicked and makes them give howls".

Not you is lawful never offer the incense of flattery to the powerful and the weak attack. The spirit of Justice is that should inform all its acts.

Matters little that the hatred of many him pursued, and does not give rest point. These, usually, are u000athose who, like Mauricio Tayerand, according to Lamartine, greet the rising sun, and return back to the Sun that gets. It is preferable to the applause of them have the consciousness of fulfilled duty, and not feel, on the night of memories, the burn of remorse at the bottom of the heart.

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